Why do our tourists in San Francisco utter Ashbury with a Z,xxxxxrhyming with raspberry, blind to Haight as a homophonefor hate, mispronounced the height. Runaways, rail-thin girlsrazor crystalline rays of toxic ardor, pipes of ultraviolet hazeon North Beach, venom of urban wilderness. Desirexxxxxxxxxxxxxxprophesies to young fugitive women –Love yourselves. If you refuse to lovexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxlabor at least love yourselves. You areall you have in this intravenous worldxxxxxxxxxxxxxand God is more obvious than the mawof this post-machine agexxxxxxor a bruise-lipped tattoo on your chinif you look.

Downstairs via the stairs, the janitor makes a fool of his bride, the broom. For us, imaginingbondage is enough. A red shed. My abdomen hurts, my thorax. Everyone unsure for pain is notwords. A dinner party stained the shed. That’s me. Rusted, rust and I are leaving. The girl turnsto me to say, “Definitely flesh. Flesh ineffable.” Guilt is not like pain. All of us can feel her guilt.How can one be totally stagnant? Let me show you how. Let me show you how indefinitely
stagnant us birds can be.

a baby owlat the back entrance.startled, she gathered stonesconvinced of your foul nature,as if someone sent youto cast spells

your round eyeswere also terrified

father, delighted, picked you upheld you, to mama’s horrorI don’t want that thing hereAnd locked you in a cageBoth staredNeither with compassionwith desire and with dreadI’m going to sell it to my compadreHow much do you think he’ll give mefor this

and so you were gonewho knows where, who knowsfor how much.did you go and meetothers. raise chicks.Eat eyes, rodents.Who knows if you were a woman,a girl, and ancestor beggar, her brotherhis mother, my sisteror just an owlwith perfect vision